The Old Man That Walked
by girlthatwrites
Summary: What happened to Morgana's body after Merlin left her? And what happens when he returns?


**_Okay, first Merlin fanfic. Don't hate if it's terrible! I may have tweaked things a bit just so it worked. Let me know what you think!_**

* * *

I pulled one knee up close to my chest on the bench where I sat, flipping the page of the book I was reading just as I realized that, despite the fact that my eyes had just scanned the previous three pages, I had not absorbed anything I read. I slammed the paperback shut and tossed it into my open messenger bag next to me, leaning my head back against the wall behind me with my eyes closed. I knew beneath my green eyes were terribly dark circles caused from many sleepless nights, and those few nights I did get sleep I was plagued by awful nightmares that I could not explain. The lack of sleep was beginning to show in my school work, and my friends were beginning to notice I was becoming more and more irritable. I had not dared to tell any of them, not even my closest friends, about the nightmares, and certainly not my mother. She was preoccupied enough as it was, constantly either on call or busy with some other doctor duties.

I heard Mr. Gains, the owner of the general store where I always walked to after school and waited for the public bus, came outside to dust off one of the old coin-operated candy machines that had not been used or refilled in years. "Good day, today, hm?" he asked me kindly as he used the dust rag to wipe off his eternally dirty glasses.

"Absolutely fantastic," I muttered back dryly as I opened my eyes, looking up at the gray sky that had decided for the first time in nearly a week not to release torrents of rain upon us undeserving humans. "And how was your day?"

"Oh, quite good, quite good. Had more customers by here than I have in a while."

"Yet they still don't touch those damn candies, do they?"

"Don't blame them, Morgan. Would you?"

"No, I suppose not." I gave a small sigh as I looked up the road, spotting the approach of a familiar body, adorned in a black hat and carrying his usual bags. "Hey, look, it our friend, the old man that walks."

"Is it, now?" Mr. Gains readjusted his glasses and peered closer at the old man who always walked by the general store at the same time everyday, usually about a half-hour before I was picked up. "You know, Morgan, he truly is a very friendly fellow. It may not do you too much harm to not think so poorly of him."

"Who said I think poorly of him?"

Mr. Gains glanced at me, clearly unconvinced. "He is far from poverty-stricken, despite your ideas, and he holds far more within his person than you could ever imagine."

"Yeah, well, I'm friends with enough old men as it, thank you very much."

"Well, I'm not old, and I assume that very few of those friends of yours that sometimes accompany you here are secretly old men underneath, so I find that to be quite a lie."

I looked up at Mr. Gains, whose smile was causing his face to become even more wrinkled than usual. "Fine, Mr. Gains, for you I will go speak to him. But only because I have no homework and no one else to talk to today."

Mr. Gains smiled at me as I stood up, tossing my messenger bag over my shoulder before jogging down the street to catch up with the old man. After a bus hurtled down the street, I managed to cross over to the side where the old man was walking and eventually come to the point where I was walking right alongside him. For an old man, he was walking at a remarkably brisk pace with quite a youthful rhythm in his step.

"Hi, I'm Morgan," I said with a slightly awkward tone, not really knowing how to start off this conversation. "Your friend back there, Mr. Gains, he told me to come talk to you."

"Yes, I have been expecting it for some time, now," the old man said in a voice I would have expected from someone generations younger than him. "I wish I had been more prepared."

"More prepared for what?" I asked, thoroughly confused. "You don't need to prepare for conversation."

"It is not the conversation I would need preparation for." He had still not looked at me while we were speaking, and it was beginning to make me even more suspicious of him than I already was. "How often have you traveled through these forests?"

"Not very often. They can be dangerous."

"Yes. Yes. They can be very dangerous. I would advise you to never enter them."

"There really aren't many forests around anymore, anyway. Especially around here."

"Yes, of course. You know, I don't mean to be rude, but I must be getting on and I don't want to take you to far from your waiting spot." The man finally turned to face me, but it was just quickly enough for me to barely see a glimpse of his face and a small smile before he was hurrying down the street. He turned his chin slightly over his shoulder. "And speak to Mr. Gains about those nightmares, Morgan."

I was so stunned that it was not until he had turned the corner at the end of the street that I realized standing there with my mouth hanging open was going to do absolutely nothing. I rushed after him, spinning around the corner at full speed. "Hey! What did you mean by-…well, where the hell did you go?!"

Where the man should have been walking was nothing but empty space, as if he had just disappeared into thin air. I shook my head, convincing myself he had somehow cut across the street and disappeared into the forest quickly. Maybe I had been standing there in that shocked state for longer than I thought. I turned back around, shaking my head a bit more to get the weird, skeptical thoughts I was now having out of my mind before I returned back to Mr. Gains's general store, where the store owner was still busy dusting.

"Did you have a nice conversation?" Mr. Gains asked me, trying to conceal a smirk.

"Have you talked to him a lot before?" I asked him bluntly, not wanting to tip-toe around what I knew was most likely true.

"Yes, he is actually a very good friend of mine."

"Have you mentioned me?"

"I've just said that there is a young girl named Morgan who often waits after school for the bus to pick her up at my store."

"I'm not the only one who does that."

"No, but you are the only one who does it everyday."

"He…he said to talk to you about my nightmares."

At that, Mr. Gains dropped the dusting rag he was holding and turned to stare at me with wide eyes from behind his glasses. "Nightmares? What nightmares?"

"I…" I did not know exactly how to phrase this, having never spoken to anyone about it before and especially so spontaneously. I suddenly had mental images of Mr. Gains driving me off to a mental institute where they would put me through hundreds of psychological tests and give me a handful of pills to take everyday. "I just have nightmares, that's all. Everyone does."

"How bad are they?" Mr. Gains asked me very seriously, taking a step closer and completely abandoning the dusting rag and candy machines. "How often do you have them?"

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do."

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands instead of at the man I had talked to everyday since I was eleven and had known even before that because he had been a very good friend of my late grandfather, visiting him very often. "They're awful. They're so…vivid. It's worse than a movie, sometimes. It's…it's as if I'm living them. And they terrify me. I'm afraid I'll wake up one night in the middle of one and find myself there, wherever there may be."

"And how often are they?"

I looked up at him and bit my lip again, this time out of fear of remembering the terrible things I had dreamed. "It seems as though it's every time I close my eyes, lately."

"Well, try to get some sleep tonight. I know an old remedy for nightmares that will hopefully be of some help to you."

"No, Mr. Gains, I don't want-"

"Ah, ah, I'll hear none of it. Your grandfather would have my head if he knew I was letting his granddaughter go about having nightmares every time she closed her eyes. Just get through one more night, and I promise you, I will do all that I can to try to help."

I did not have time to deny his help or thank him for it before the bus arrived, followed immediately by Mr. Gains's entrance back into the store without even picking up the dusting rag. I took one last look at the door before mounting the steps onto the bus that dropped me off twenty minutes later right at my front door. Throughout the rest of the evening, I could focus on little else except Mr. Gains's promises to help me and the conversation with the mysterious old man that, until that day, I had thought of as little more than a poor old man with little else to do with his time except walk around. Now, I was beginning to wonder if he truly was much more than a poor old man. The closer I slipped to sleep, the easier it was for me to consider and believe that he could maybe be something more, even, than human. When my eyes shut for the final time that night, I did not see blackness of sleep, but instead I saw the quiet, still darkness of a forest with strips of silver moonlight entering through dense foliage. Then, there, lying amongst the broken branches and dead leaves, was a pale skinned young woman, adorned in night and death.

* * *

Merlin trudged up the steep incline with some difficulty, the hem of his pants and his shoes still dripping with water. He wiped his nose and beneath his eyes for the last time, all out of tears by that point as he was well into his journey back to Camelot, back to reality. By the time he returned, Gwen would no longer be Gwen but Queen Guinivere, the dead would all be buried, and Gaius would have come through on his promise to have Merlin's favorite meal waiting. Somehow, that last thought, that little thought about the simplest pleasure of having a good friend cook him his favorite meal, caused the smallest smile to form on Merlin's face, though the heaviness in his heart was not lightened in the slightest. Yet.

Merlin continued on, both surprised and not surprised at the same time at how little fatigue he felt after such a long, eventful journey. He thought for a second that maybe he was just tricking himself into thinking he was not tired, possibly even in danger of passing out soon if he did not stop, and decided it would be best to just take a moment to lean against a tree. No sooner had he made this decision than he saw, up ahead, a soft blue light shining through the trees at ground level, pulsing slightly. Merlin rushed forward, his breath barely circulating through his body with the quick breaths he took as he ran, branches and twigs snapping beneath his damp feet. He was unsure whether to be happy or alarmed by the fact that the pulsing blue light did not recede as he approached it, coming nearer and nearer to it. The closer he got, the warmer he felt, and odd contrast to the cool light that emanated from the forest before him.

Just as Merlin broke through the trees to come face to face with the mysterious light, he realized where it was he had been running toward in the first place. Lying on the ground before him, with the blood of her wound now dried on her black dress, was Morgana. Her face peaceful, this was the closest Merlin had seen her in what seemed to be ages, the closest she was to the Lady Morgana that Merlin had once been so close to. For a second Merlin could almost see the walls of Morgana's chambers rise around them as he pictured the young boy Mordred had once been, wounded and being held in Morgana's arms. If Merlin thought about it long enough, he could replace the black tattered dress she now wore with the green one she had favored when she resided in Camelot. It was not until he heard his own voice promising to help her and the boy that he was violently pulled out of his nostalgic reverie and brought back to reality, finally seeing the sight before him.

Morgana was the source of the bright light, the glow coming from every pore in her body. Merlin began to walk forward slowly, unsure about whether any movements on his part would have an effect on the light. As he got closer, he realized the glow was beginning to recede from her fingertips and toes and start to condense in her chest, near her heart. Merlin stopped next to Morgana, falling down to his knees next to her body as, for the second time that day, he watched the life drain from her body right before his eyes. He stared at the blue light as it began to rise from Morgana's chest, raising higher and higher to reveal a blue ball of glowing mist that just continue to rise into the air above them. When Merlin looked back at Morgana, he could still see the pale blue light reflecting on her face and reached up with shaking hands to close her eyes, sorry to see such beautiful eyes close for the last time.

"I always loved your eyes," Merlin said in a husky whisper as he pulled his hand away, cautious, as if he was afraid something was going to happen, even though he knew his fears were pointless. "I guess I have no trouble in telling you that now, since you can't even hear me." He reached up, rubbing his face with his hands before looking back at Morgana with tired eyes. "I tried to do all I could to protect Arthur. I did everything to try to make sure he would live. I never considered who might die along the way. No matter what I did, the prophecy would have been fulfilled. If I had let Mordred die the first chance I had, Arthur would have died by someone else's hands, or Mordred would have found a way out himself. There was no way I could have saved Arthur. I may had delayed his death, but I never could have stopped it. I blame myself for what you became because I let you down, too, not just Arthur. I could have helped you. I could have told you the truth; I could have at least tried to stop you from becoming what you became. But then again, in the end, would it have mattered what I tried to do? Wouldn't you have ended up like this somehow, in one way or another? It seems as though no matter what we try to do to avoid our destinies, what we try to do to avoid the parts of the prophecy we don't like, in the end, the prophecy always wins." Merlin reached out, brushing a strand of hair back from Morgana's cold skin of her cheek. "The words someone decided on years ago are what determine who will be good, bad, murderous, or murdered. One word difference, Morgana, and maybe you and I wouldn't be here right now. Maybe you would have been the one that killed me. Maybe you would have been the one that sent Arthur to Avalon. Maybe you could have saved him. Maybe, just maybe, I would have been the darkness to your light, I would have been the hatred to your love. Arthur and I may be two sides of the same coin, but you and I were chasing each other around the rim, weren't we? Same powers, always chasing each other, not quite landing on one side or the other. I know you still had some good in your heart; you would have killed me much sooner if you did not. I know I have evil in my heart; I would have let you live if I did not. You brought out my hatred and darkness; I reminded you of your lightness and love. But neither was enough, I suppose-" Merlin sniffled, and for the first time he realized he had a couple tears rolling down his cheek, the hot water dropping onto his clothes before he could make a move to wipe them away. "I just needed you to know that I believe you may have been more, had I done something, been able to deny that damned prophecy. Maybe _we_ could have been more. I will honestly never forget the first time I saw you because I thought you were one of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and to this day, that has not changed. I am sorry, Morgana. I am…so sorry."

"I guess you were right, Merlin."

Merlin jumped to his feet, spinning around to face where he had heard Morgana's voice come from. Standing, no, not standing, _hovering_, just a few inches off the ground, was Morgana, formed entirely by the blue mist Merlin had watched escape from her chest. But, no, it could not be Morgana, for her body was still lying on the ground at Merlin's feet. Then again, this was not the same Morgana that was dead on the forest floor; this was the Morgana that Merlin had seen in his flashback to when he and Morgana had helped the young Mordred. This Morgana had long, dark hair cascading down her back, a silk dress that complimented her kind eyes, and a warm, friendly smile that, if you looked at it a certain way, almost resembled a coy smirk. For a few moments, Merlin was so captivated by this Morgana that he could do not, for the life of him, tear his eyes from her.

"Merlin, didn't your mother ever teach your not to stare?" Morgana asked in that slightly playful, mocking tone she used to use quite frequently.

"I don't know-" Merlin began to stammer, looking quickly between the dead Morgana and the…blue, floating, slightly creepily duplicated Morgana.

"Kilgharrah was right. I was the darkness to your light. But darkness is not achieve until a light is extinguished, and your lightness relit that inside me when I died. The part of me that could not kill you was the part of me that was waiting to be relit, the part of me that never wanted to be dark forever. It was the part of me that formed before I was overtaken by fear and anger. I'm sorry, too, Merlin, for all that I have put you through. Maybe, if we meet again someday, you will have a chance to prove that the prophecy truly is nothing but words uttered thousands of years ago."

"If…if we meet again…? What exactly are you imply-"

"You killed my body, but you did not destroy my entire essence in time. So, this continues on, neither growing stronger nor growing weaker, until I find the right place for me."

"You mean a host body?"

"No. I mean one whose essence is the same as mine, so I may combine with them. The Old Magic will never die, Merlin, and neither will you."

"So, you're just going to float around until you find someone to possess, but it's not going to be possession, because they're essentially the same person as you? And that's how you're going to carry on Old Magic? Brilliant. Brilliant. That plan is just _brilliant_."

Morgana moved forward, placing a hand lightly on Merlin's cheek. "Hush, Merlin. I am not the Morgana you killed. You killed the darkness and hatred within me and your light and love took over. Without it, my essence would not have lived."

"So this is all my fault? Great, I really am an idiot, even after all this time."

"Shhhh. No, you are Merlin."

Merlin looked into Morgana's eyes, as intense as ever, and he recognized the look as one he thought he would never see again. As much as he tried, he could find no hatred, no darkness, and no fear or anger within those eyes. When he raised a hand to place it on top of Morgana's, he was surprised by how solid it was. "Do I wish you luck, or just say good-bye?"

Morgana pulled her hand back reluctantly and laughed good-naturedly. To Merlin's ears, the sound of her laughter matched the silver of the moon, sounding just like the old Morgana's laugh. "Just say good-bye, Merlin."

Merlin shook his head, letting one side of his mouth raise into a slight smirk. "Until we meet again," he bowed, "Lady Morgana."


End file.
